


Who Knew It Was You

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [8]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: AU, Cake, Cas is 17, Cas is a Junior, Cas is in year 11, Dean and Gabe are in year 12, Dean is 17 and a half, Dean is a senior, Destiel Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Gabe is 18, Gabe is a senior, Highschool AU, M/M, Modern day highschool au, Sabriel - Freeform, Sam is 16 and a half, Sweet!Dean, cute stuff, dean is in love, destiel smut, grumpy!sam, highschool, i really don't know what to tag this, john is a good dad, profound!cas, smart!Dean, sunsent watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just another modern day highschool AU main-focus-Destiel fic with cute fluff and cute smut and awh</p><p>Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.</p><p>Rating will most definitely change with the addition of chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Hitler

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamps will be added after all chapters are posted if, for whatever unfathomable reason, you'd like to see more.

The water slides soothingly over Dean's heated face and he grumbles about 'how many matches is he gonna put me in' and 'hate being this sweaty'.

Actually, being sweaty never bothered him until Coach was involved. Because as much as Dean enjoys wrestling, having bulging muscles and making them very obvious, even just simply roughhousing with friends, he does not like how far Coach Talley pushes _him_ , specifically.

Speak of the devil.

"Women! Get your asses out of the shower and out to the practise mats! We have a fucking tournament tomorrow, you morons!" Jake Talley, their coach, snaps and whacks a bottle away from Alistair whose mouth drops and eyes go wide. The boy's voice catches in his throat when he tries to whine and his hands recoil as Coach stares him down. "You think this is a game? Huh? Somethin' to do for fun? You _dumbasses_!"

Dean doesn't even flinch, is used to hearing him yell like this. He's a coach. It's his job.

"He seems grumpier than usual," Cas whispers from behind Dean and Dean only turns his head and smirks, not at all surprised to find that Cas, yet again, has snuck up on him.

"Think it's his time of the month?" Dean sniggers and grins at his best friend.

"I can't even imagine a guy bleeding from his d--"

"Winchester!"

"Oh boy," Dean breathes and lifts his head to the tall, dark skinned man standing straight-backed and not in the least menacing across the room. At least...not menacing to Dean. "Coach. What can I do ya for?"

"Winchester, you are one of my best," he begins slowly and Dean braces himself for what he knows will be a screaming fit, and doesn't even begin to think about disobeying the man. He used be a soldier. Got injured in Afghanistan but has inhuman strength. No way is Dean gonna mess with that. "But you need to GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND INTO THE _FUCKIN' GAME_!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir, won't happen again," Dean lies and does his damnedest to suppress his laughter. He feels Castiel shaking with his own silent humour behind him.

"It better not. Now get out there...and practise."

"Yes, sir."

Coach turns and leaves and Dean watches him go, throwing the man a Hitler salute as he turns around the doorway. Cas breaks down with hysterical laughter at this, holding his stomach.

"Jesus Christ, you wouldn't think he's got a wife and three kids at home, huh?" Cas wipes the beginnings of tears from his eyes, still breathing quickly.

Dean smiles delightedly and turns around, sticking out a hand to help Cas up.

"You're crazy," he says, and Cas scowls. Perfect. Dean loves making his friend annoyed.

"You're the one saluting Black Afghanistan Hitler over there," Cas retorts, letting himself be pulled up. He flicks Dean's cheek and scoots around him to get to the practise mats and Dean shakes his head.

"Oh and," Cas peeks his head around the corner and Dean lifts his own along with his eyebrows at his friend's...strangely beautiful voice, "Gabe has this huge crush on your brother. So that's a thing."

"I will not hesitate to rip your brother's lungs out if he hurts Sam."

Cas holds up his hands in mock surrender and smirks.

"Hey, not my problem. Didn't even know your brother wasn't straight."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Well..." Cas scratches the back of his neck and steps back into the room, getting a look from one of the other boys who passes by. It's not strange for him to get weird looks. He _is_  gay. And on a _male_  wrestling team. So. People are gonna talk. It's inevitable. "Sam was at our house this past weekend. I'm surprised you didn't notice. I, uh...walked in on them...well, kissing."

Dean's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He works his jaw, nodding, and pulls in a breath to speak. His lips part and Coach walks back in.

"Winchester! The mats. Now!"

Cas shoots him an apologetic look and they scramble out of the room and onto the mats.


	2. Muscles Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to pop a boner, mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two longer oop

Cas loves his best friend.

Plain and simple, short and sweet.

It's not earth shattering. It's not some big revelation. It's not some Holy fuckin' Grail.

It's just...a fact. It's just a fact...that exists.

And Cas has tried with every fibre of his stupid, foolish being to make it...not a fact. But it's a stubborn fact and it refuses to move.

So he's given up on trying to make it go away.

And he's stopped trying to deny it the right to burden him; he's stopped trying to push down the fluttering feeling in his stomach that he gets when Dean smiles at him or smiles at all, when Dean's green eyes catch on his own and they stare at eachother in a moment of silent communication. The light tingle he feels scattering across his skin when Dean's fingers brush his arm or hand on accident and he has to suppress a little gasp, when Dean whispers right against his ear to avoid being heard by whatever teacher is being a bother at the time and he has to stifle a shiver. The pull he feels to Dean when the older boy drapes an arm around Cas' shoulders, unknowing of Cas' feelings for him, when Dean comforts him when Cas is having one of his not-as-great days and tugs him into a hug. The way he can't help but let a face-splitting grin spread over his cheeks when Dean sings to him jokingly or sings at all, when Dean is a total jackass and fools around during class.

He's stopped denying all of it, has started letting it all flood his mind every second of every day of every month. And as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks he's loved Dean since he met him. Since they first spoke back in year seven after Dean beat a kid up for laying a less than friendly hand on his younger brother, Sam.

It was the sweetest thing Cas' has ever seen. Not the beating itself. Dean protecting his brother the only way he really seems to know how.

It's a hard life to live but it's the only one he's got.

Dean knows Cas is gay, knows he's only ever been with two girls and that's how he figured it out.

But he doesn't know...he doesn't, he's still completely clueless about the giant, moronic, absolutely fucking ridiculous crush Cas has on him. It's actually kind of funny in a way.

Cas doesn't know how it's funny. Just is. For whatever reason.

He's flung back to the present by Dean's soft voice in his ear again.

"So, big, scary tournament Coach was so worried about. Think the team's even gonna show up?" Dean breathes and Cas chuckles to himself at the fact that it was, indeed, supposed to start twenty minutes ago and the opposing team hasn't arrived at their school yet.

Cas leans over, getting his lips as close as he can to Dean's ear without being weird about it and relishing in and sighing at the fact that Dean thinks nothing more of Cas' closeness than the friendship they have.

"Maybe they're all in the back of their bus having some fun with each other." Gay jokes. Always seems to lighten the mood. Dean's eyes flicker with amusement and he's obviously trying his hardest to cover up his obnoxious smirk.

The doors fly open and the opponents march in, stealing glances around the room and looking to all the world as if they're about to shit their pants.

The coaches exchange a few words and then call over the referee to fix something they can't seem to figure out on their own.

"First rule of fight club: don't talk about fight club," Dean mumbles and Cas nearly snorts.

"I don't know, Dean. I think they might be breaking that rule," Cas replies, still watching the conversation with curious eyes.

He suddenly feels Dean's breath slithering over his cheek and Dean's lips against his ear again, and he tries not to shudder both at the sensation he gets with having Dean so close to him and at the mild knowledge that Dean had been staring at him while he wasn't looking.

"Your hair's longer than usual. You growin' it out? Tryna impress the ladies?" Dean teases and this time Cas does laugh, slamming a hand over his mouth when he realises how obnoxious he sounds in the dull, nearly silent room.

"Or something like that," Cas says, knowing that, in all reality, his hair is only long because his usual barber got shut down and foreclosed, the poor old man, Joshua, unable to pay the bills.

Cas' family, being the rich little fucks they are, offered on various occasions to help, as Joshua and his own family have been friends of the Shurley family for at least a century; especially back when Cas' family 'bought' African slaves and instead of putting them to work, gave them a place to live for however long they needed.

But Dean doesn't need to know all that. Probably wouldn't care much.

The apparent problem seems to be fixed because the coaches nod to each other and then the ref, and disperse themselves back into their respective crowds.

"Alright, boys. The other team has a man down. So we've been given a choice between sitting one of you ass-fuckers out-" Cas snickers at that. "-or lending one of you to the other team for a match. Now, we ain't no quitters, are we, ladies?"

A few groans and even more shaking heads.

"Good. So, Shurley, I'm putting you on the other team. You'll be goin' up against Winchester here. Think you can handle that."

"Yes, sir," he answers immediately, lying the most ridiculous lie he's ever had to lie.

Because, in all honesty, no, he can't handle it. Not because Dean is the best wrestler that this shit-pit-piss-hole of a school's had in literally years (okay, that might be part of it), but mostly because...well...Dean will end up on top of him, probably straddling him, probably with his hands on him. Might even pin him down and crack a joke because his head will be by Cas' ear so why the fuck not, right?

That's the real problem. Is that Dean will be touching Cas. In a way he wants dean to but that Dean will take as no more than a friendly roughhousing match with his best friend.

Fuck.

But, Cas knows, he must do what Coach says or he'll have a thirteen inch shoe up his ass and a wad of swear words stuffed in his ears before the sun sets.

Cas watches boredly, blankly staring, as the matches go by. He's close to last and he really can't stand waiting this long for something: it makes him uncomfortable and he ends up having to do an entire exercise routine to rid himself of the anxiety - it begins with slight fidgeting, adjusting the obnoxiously tight-fitting spandex of his suit, tapping his foot or chewing on his lower lip; then it progresses to him pacing, rolling his head on his neck, coughing even though he really doesn't need to; and then it goes full blown, needing to jog around a gymnasium fifteen times and do a hundred sit ups or crunches, two hundred jumping jacks, and however he hell many push-ups. Maybe until he's completely wrecked. That's usually how it happens, at least.

Cas wrings his hands impatiently now, having been sent to the other side of the gym at the beginning of the tournament to sit with the opponents so he's got no friends and no one to tease and tell jokes to...no one to implicitly flirt with.

"Winchester and Shurley!" Coach screams and Cas' head whips up.

Shit.

Here goes nothin'.

He crosses to the mat, never breaking eye contact with a smirking Dean.

But Dean wouldn't be smirking if he knew.

The moment the ref calls start, Dean charges and clutches Cas' shouders, and Cas holds out his arms to catch Dean in the chest.

They struggle like this for a moment before Cas is distracted, not for the first time, by the muscles in Dean's arms for a split second and Dean gets the upper-hand.

He shoves Cas back and somehow twists them both so Cas is on his back and Dean is straddling his thighs and holding him down with a strong forearm across his chest and a grin attached to his lips.

Cas scolds himself for getting so distracted but who the hell wouldn't with muscles and glimmering, straight teeth like that. He shakes his head and smirks and Dean's eyes widen for the shortest of milliseconds before Cas is flipping them again and now he sits on top of Dean, hips between Dean's legs and both arms locking Dean's own arms to his chest.

Dean chuckles nervously for some reason and Cas is confused for a moment before he shifts and then he feels it.

Dean has an erection.

A very large one.

Cas can feel the blood rushing from his own dick to his face, and he knows his cheeks are probably some inhuman shade of crimson red.

Dean purses his lips and stops struggling against Cas' grip, allowing the ref to count to three and admitting the first defeat he's probably ever had.

Castiel hops up and holds out a hand. Dean takes it gratefully and allows himself to be hauled up by his...best friend...and as soon as he's standing he strides across the room with no less confidence than before and slams through the double doors to the locker room.

Cas watches him go, absent-mindedly waddling back to the visiting team and taking a seat at the back of the group.

Two more matches and the tournament is done, Dean's team, and technically Cas' team, winning in spite of Dean losing the one match.

Cas immediately jogs to the locker room and finds Dean sitting in the corner by his locker, chin propped up by his hands, elbows on his knees, lips sucked in between his teeth, and eyes watching the blue lockers without really seeing them.

The rest of the boys hustle in with a roar of shouting and shoving, walking back to the showers right away, completely oblivious of Cas and Dean, standing and sitting respectively and not doing anything.

When the rest of the team is safely nestled back in the shower room, Cas approaches Dean slowly, like the blonde haired boy is an injured animal and he may bite at any moment.

"I think you let me win," Cas tries to taunt, standing at Dean's side now, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shorts.

Cas grins in relief when his joking earns him a tentative smirk from Dean.

Okay, so the man's not completely brain-dead. That's good, that's a start. Progress.

Cas sits next to him, a few centimetres away so as not to freak the boy out, and opens his mouth again to say something more, but Dean cuts him off.

"Look, I don't..." He breathes out a laugh. "I thought I was straight." This, he grumbles, and Cas assumes he didn't mean for the younger man to hear it. "I just need to think for a few minutes, okay? Just...just go take a shower, Cas. I promise I'll talk when you get out. I just...just gotta think...right now, okay?"

Cas nods solemnly, not daring to touch him or comfort him, and leaves for he showers.

There's a lot to talk about and not many words to say what they obviously want to say.


	3. Talking Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk it out buddies

Dean sits on the bench in front of his locker for ten minutes, listens to the other boys bustling about around him as they remove themselves from the showers and redress in their normal street clothes, as they leave the bathroom and pat his back once because they assume he's just getting himself down about not winning.

Cas is back out of the shower three minutes after the rest get done and at that point it's just the two of them. Alone. In an otherwise empty locker room. Together. The two of them. Who both got boners when they were wrestling each other.

Great combination.

Dean feels Cas walking up behind him and takes a deep breath in.

"Dean," Cas whispers and Dean clears his throat and stands.

"Cas do you...do you like me?" Dean asks and turns to find Cas' eyes going wide and his entire face and neck burning pink.

"Um...yeah you're my friend, of course I--"

"Cas...you know that's not what I mean," Dean gives him a chastising look and Cas' head drops.

"I don't see why it would matter either way. You're straight--"

"That's...obviously not very true, and you know it and I know it and goddamnit if the entire world doesn't know it," Dean flings his hands over his head in a gesture of pure, unequivocal frustration. Then he mumbles, hoping Cas can't hear, "My best friend, of all people, is the one to prove that."

"Dean, I'm sorry--"

"Stop apologising," it's harsh. He didn't mean to yell. He certainly doesn't want to scare poor Cas...and, quite honestly...the reason he doesn't want to scare him is not because he wants to keep him as a friend. If he's gonna be attracted to a guy - not just any guy, his best friend, mustn't forget it's his best friend - might as well go big or go home. He calms himself and softens his voice, taking Cas by the shoulders and tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. "Stop apologising. It's annoying. You didn't...do anything wrong. Me...not being as straight as I thought? Not your fault. You didn't...turn me not-straight, okay? Plenty of studies that show it's not a choice. I'm just...I'm just a little freaked out because I've never...gone out and looked at a guy and thought 'I'd tap that'. Okay? So the...the feelings I get...when I'm around you. Not so new. The...the thing...that happened when we were out there. New. Brand new. And it's weird.

"And I'm still trying to get over the fact that my brother isn't straight either, it's weird. It's weird to...to have so many...not-straight people...in the family."

Cas laughs at this and smacks a hand against his mouth to cover it up, coughing to add emphasis on how he was _definitely not laughing_.

"Sorry. Sorry, not funny," Cas' voice is muffled and Dean can't help but think how adorable his wide eyes shining over his hand are. Cas shakes his head. "Promise I'm not laughing."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

They stare at eachother for a very long moment before Dean breaks and grins, and Cas begins laughing hysterically.

They calm themselves down and Dean pushes his fingers through his bangs, remembering he needs to get his own cut. Maybe he can bring Cas to his barber...that's not a gay thing to do, right?

Just...friends being good friends.

"Hey...Dean, did you...? Did you just say...'the feelings I get when I'm around you'?" Cas questions suddenly and Dean's eyes go wide, his own cheeks flushing this time.

"Uh..."

"'Cause...I'm pretty sure--"

" _Um_..."

"--I heard you--"

"Cas."

"--say those words."

In the time it took Cas to say his own words, he'd scooted closer to Dean, only a few centimetres, not enough for anyone to notice unless they were inexplicably attracted to him.

"Cas," Dean whispers and Cas smirks and steps back, obviously not wanting to make Dean uncomfortable. But, really...he wasn't all that uncomfortable. In fact, he may or may not have been thoroughly enjoying Cas' presence so close to his own, or have been thinking about narrowing the space further.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Fine, I said it...but it doesn't mean I'm telling you what I mean."

"Don't you trust me, Dean?"

Of course.

"Yes, Cas. I do trust you. You're my best friend."

"Do you though?"

"What are you trying to do?"

Dean is becoming frustrated because, really, all he wants to do is _fucking kiss his best friend_  but his best friend _won't stop talking_.

"Me? Oh, I'm just trying to get you to spill what you mean when you say, 'the feelings I get when I'm around you'," Cas inspects Dean closely, his lips parting at the green eyes that catch his blue ones. And damnit, those eyes. "Did you have feelings for me before this, Dean?"

The words are small and hesitant, dripping with anxiety and an implicit shock.

Dean's own lips part but he can't speak, because he's caught up in the eyes again. The eyes, the eyes, the eyes.

They're some indescribable shade of blue, turquoise as the rolling waves of the Carribbean ocean with tiny freckles of gold and green and so calm and kind and gentle, and it's as if God, himself (if Dean believed), mixed the rainbow of different hues and tones of blue and green. Dean's always loved those incredible eyes - they were the first thing he noticed when he met Cas.

And now they're staring across at Dean, attached to some pink, parted lips and a very frightened face. And Dean realises he hasn't said anything for a long time so he shakes his head and tears his eyes from Cas lips, scratching the back of his neck.

"So what if I did--" he tries finally but Cas is ready for this answer and cuts him off.

"So you tried to deny it."

"Yeah, and?"

"No, that's just...thats predictable, coming from you. You just-you deny things. Literally all the time. I just know really well, I guess, and I found it amusing that you denied yourself of yet another great thing," Cas explains and Dean somehow finds Cas' absolute, irrevocable sass the most adorable thing right now. So, he does what he does best. Teases.

"Are you saying, Cas...that you are a great thing? Are you that great?" Dean stifles a smile and Cas doesn't even blush only raises his eyebrows and gives Dean a pointed look.

"That is what I am saying, Dean, definitely..." he closes his eyes and nods his head, "definitely what I'm s-ay...saying." He gulps in the middle of the word 'saying' and by the end of it he's chuckling again.

Another reason Dean _really_  likes Cas: he's fun to joke around with. And it's adorable when Dean says something and Cas blushes. Sometimes, Dean even says something he knows will make Cas blush just so he can see it again.

But Dean nods too, his grin peeking through his layer of metal armour, and Cas clears his throat.

"Well, I'm glad it's not going to be awkward between us...right?" Cas squints at Dean and the other man offers a sideways smile and drops his head.

"Yeah, Cas...sure."

Of course it won't be.

Of course.


	4. Younger Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a mini counselor for Cas.

Cas can't believe it won't be awkward. With Dean, anything resembling this situation would be awkward.

He worries his lip as he stumbles in through his front door, and doesn't even pause when he sees that Sam is over again.

"Oh, hey Cas," Sam greets him and furrows his brows when he catches the concern in Cas' eyes. "You okay?"

"Has your brother ever...ever said anything about me? You know, at home?"

Sam tilts his head and his brows furrow deeper.

"What?" He laughs, a confused smile forming on his lips. Gabe struts in through the entrance to the kitchen and he cocks a brow at Cas' presence in the den.

"Hey, little brother. What can I do ya for?" Gabe quips, wearing his usual smirk.

"Nothing, Gabe. Uh, Cas...why don't we go talk somewhere else," Sam stands from the couch where Gabe just sat next to him and threw an arm over the back behind Sam, definitely not on accident.

"You tryin' to steal my Winchester, Cassie?"

"Definitely not. I do have my own," it embarrasses Cas to say it but it's really the only thing that'll push his brother to speechlessness.

As expected, Gabe's jaw drops to the floor and his eyebrows shoot up and Cas begins the trek up the stairs to the library, praying to whatever will listen that Michael hasn't yet claimed his spot in there.

He peeks in through the doorway, realising only now that Sam's followed him, and sees that Michael isn't in his usual spot in the dark brown beanbag chair that Gabe always jokes about looking like a piece of faeces because he is a literal five-year-old in an eighteen-year-old's body.

Cas and Sam sit in chairs facing each other and Sam gives Cas his full attention. Dean must be proud to have such a caring brother.

"I like Dean...in a way a best friend shouldn't," Cas just says it as it is, not pausing to think of the repercussions or even Sam's reaction.

"I know."

Okay...not what he was expecting. Of course, Gabe may have talked.

"Okay...did you also know that Dean harbours certain feelings about me as well? Because I sure as hell didn't," Cas laughs nervously at that last part and he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks again.

"I did know that, yes."

This definitely surprises Cas. A lot. He stares incredulously at Sam, lips parted and head tilted.

"What?" Sam says, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "A lot of people talk to me about a lot of things, and those people include both our brothers. Even..." He blushes and dips his head in apparent embarrassment before continuing. "Even Michael's asked me about a few things."

Cas' eyebrows develop a mind of their own and shift even further into his hairline. Perfect. Sam knows everything about anyone ever and he probably knows things about Cas that Cas doesn't want anyone but himself to know about.

"Don't worry," Sam reassures as though he can read Cas' thoughts. And maybe he can. "I don't know a whole lot about you besides what you've told me, yourself and one little thing because Gabe can be kind of an asshole. B-but don't...worry about that...either, I...I don't tell other people things."

"Amazing. You're like a miniature counselor."

Sam chuckles warmly at this and Cas grins. Yeah, Dean has to be proud.

"Well, anyway...Cas if you ever need...help...asking Dean about anything, you can talk to me. I mean...I may not talk about other people, but Dean's been a big bag of dicks to me my entire life so he can suck it."

"My god, you _have_  been hanging out with Gabe."

Cas doesn't mean for Sam to hear that but Sam blushes anyway, a smile promptly glueing itself to his lips.

"Yeah...uh, well. I can tell you anything you want to know about Dean. I mean, some things I can't say because even they're a little too...private, and I rather Dean tell you, himself," Sam dodges the subject but Cas doesn't mind. He'd be embarrassed about hanging out with Gabe, too, if he was able to be. But he's been living with Gabe for seventeen years, so the embarrassment's kind of worn off. Mostly.

"No, no...I don't need to really...'know' anything. He'll tell me if he wants to and I already know most of what there is to know about him. Honestly, you could quiz me," Cas chuckles at himself before leaning forward and watching Sam intently. "I just...he's freaking out. And I don't know what to do about it. Because I didn't freak out when _I_  found out I was _gay_ , ya know? And, I'm almost as gay as it gets. Like, 101%."

"I think that's a little over the limit Cas," Sam laughs and Cas smiles but continues despite the hole in his theory.

"No limit on gay-ness. Anyway, Dean's not even...like, gay-gay. He's probably bi at most. I know gay when I see it. Gabe? That's gay as _fuck_." Sam snorts. "And he's a little freaked out about something else. See, I may...or may not...have...told him about...you and Gabe."

Sam's laughter immediately fades and he looks at Cas with a mixture of betrayal, surprise, and guilt.

"Shit, Cas! Why would tell him?"

"Don't yell at me. It just slipped out, I'm sorry!" Cas's eyes drop to the floor and he bites his bottom lip again, feeling his cheeks go from his usual average tan skin to porcelain pale to neon pink and back again. "I don't even know how it came up. It was an accident."

Sam sighs in annoyance but when Cas peeks up through his lashes, he sees the younger man closing his eyes and calming himself down. Sam's eyes fly open and catch Cas' and he purses his lips before resting a hand on Cas' shoulder.

"Cas, it's fine. You obviously didn't mean to tell him. It's just...I didn't want him to find out already. I mean, it's not like he'd be mad or anything, but...Dean's real protective of me and I wanted at least a month with Gabe before Dean ripped his eyes from their sockets," Sam explains with a maturity level that a sixteen and a half year old should not have. "It's..it's fine, though. I promise. I'll just...keep Gabe very...very far away when Dean's around."

Cas smirks and shakes his head at the idea that sweet, protective Dean would _actually_ hurt Gabe...or maybe he might...shit, maybe Cas doesn't know as much about Dean as he thought.

"Sounds like a foolproof plan, Sam."

Sam smirks and pats his shoulder before dropping his hand.

"Anyway...I think...I think Dean might need some time to adjust to the realisation that he's got some stronger feelings than he thought he had for his best friend, ya know?" Cas nods once. "Hey, can I just ask...? How...if I dare be curious...exactly did you find out anyway?"

Cas feels his face turn beet red and stands quickly.

"Thanks for sharing Sam, very appreciated, but I have to go...count the lines on my pillow..." Cas says quickly and turns to leave but Sam catches his wrist and he freezes.

"Look, Cas."

Oh boy.

"I don't know...what happened to make you bring this up, obviously. But... _whatever_...it was? It's probably not _half_  as bad as you're making it out to be and I _promise_ Dean will get over it. He'll forgive you if that's what you're looking for or...maybe he'll thank you? I don't know. I just know that whatever you guys have right now will be okay."

Cas takes these words in as Sam releases his grip on Cas' wrist and walks around the chairs, resting a hand on Cas' shoulder again.

"It'll be okay," Sam repeats and then his hand falls away and he's walking through the door and he'll probably walk back downstairs and cuddle up next to Gabe like their entire conversation never happened. Probably for the best, too.

But Cas just stands there, staring at the bottom of the bookshelf in front of him and through it, searching for an answer, some advice, anything that will tell him what the hell he's supposed to say to Dean.


	5. Older Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe lecturing Dean I'm actually really proud of this chapter

Dean slams his locker shut and leans his forehead against he cool metal, blowing out a long, slow breath. The tournament hadn't gone well for him, and now he can't deny the vehement crush he's got on his best friend and he thinks he now knows how Castiel must have felt for the past five and a half years.

Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe this is only the half of it, and he's not a clue what Cas felt like.

He'll never know unless he asks...

"I can tell you're deep in thought, kiddo," Gabriel, Cas' annoying older brother...the one who's indubitably fucking Sam.

Dean opens his eyes slowly and raises his head, then turns it and doesn't even try to fake a smile.

"What do you want, you candy-obsessed asshat," Dean quips, giving him the most disregarding look he can manage while he's so exhausted.

Gabe raises his eyebrows and removes his current lollipop from his mouth, letting his hand roll around on his wrist and jabbing the candy in the general direction of Dean.

"You. Well, I don't want you. I've got little Sammy already," Dean squints and nearly punches him. "No. No, this is much better. I just need to talk to you."

"Why the hell--"

"Keep your panties out of a bunch, you arrogant sack of muscle and testosterone," Gabe peeks up over Dean's shoulder and then checks behind him, presumably making sure the hallway is empty so he can do whatever he's about to do next. Anxiety swells in Dean's stomach and he swallows. Gabe looks back at him with the most serious face Dean has ever seen him wear and he whispers his next words quite frantically. "Listen. Cas is freaking out. I need to talk to you for real. Meet me in the janitor's closet in the Junior's wing, second corridor on your right, at 1:45. Do not be a second earlier, or someone will think we're fucking between classes."

And without any further explanation, the candy monster is gone, speed walking down the hallway and turning the corner to the fourth Senior corridor, leaving Dean baffled and tilting his head in bemusement.

This is turning out to be a strange day. And it's only third period.

\--

Dean takes his time shoving his things back in his backpack at the end of seventh period, making sure to take at least two minutes to get out of the classroom. And when he's out in the hallway, he takes his time, as well, walking as slowly as possible, without attracting suspicion, to the Junior wing.

By the time he's there, the hallway is empty save for three Juniors who don't think twice about him, two far too caught up in some passionate discussion about major highway repaving, only glancing at him, and one too busy filling his water bottle - and obviously completely baked - to even acknowledge Dean's presence.

He assumes he's safe to slip into the closet, so he turns into the second corridor, surveys the long walkway and finds the door, painted blue like the lockers in the locker room and like almost every other thing around here that can be painted.

Dean rushes to it and opens the door without a sound, slithers through it, then shuts it in the same manner. The light is on and he turns around to see a slightly annoyed Gabriel leaning against the sink, a leg crossed over the other, an arm folded over his chest and another arm resting on that one, fingers fiddling with the stick of his newest sucker. He gives Dean an appraising look and purses his lips outward.

"One tardy for you, mister Winchester," Gabe mumbles and pushes himself away from the sink. "Jesus, you're nearly as tall as your brother." He squints up at Dean, who keeps a hand on the doorknob and regards Gabe warily. "Oh, don't be as stupid as I think you are. You're not about to get fucked up the ass against your will, I really do need to talk about Cas."

"Then talk. And stop looking at me like I'm a steak or somethin'."

Gabe pulls his eyebrows in and up in a type of amused bemusement that Dean can't quite figure out.

"Oh. Honey. Don't flatter yourself," Gabe almost laughs and Dean gives him an incredulous look but the shorter Senior disregards it with ease and continues talking. "Look, Cas...obviously has a thing for you. You know this now. And I also just happen to know, because I'm a great brother and he talks to me about everything, that _you_  have...uh, some kinda thing...for _him_. Now, I know, too, that you're freaked about your little bro not bein' as straight as you thought and being not as straight as you thought with me, of all people. Because, as it is becoming abundantly apparent, I know a lot of things and I know you aren't necessarily fond of me.

"But Cas confided in me. He's an emotional guy, really feely. And if I'm being completely honest, which I obviously never am, I can be too. It runs in the family. I'm just better at hiding it. So, as much as you hate that your brother likes me and that I like your brother, and as much as you promise to, quote, 'rip my lungs out if I hurt him', unquote...buddy, I will do so much worse to you if you break my little brother's heart.

"I will give you hell in the form of pranks and rumours and possible blackmail," Gabe seems to still be unfinished with his tirade but he pauses and breathes in a shaky breath, his eyebrows still pulled in but now hanging low over his weary eyes, which have dropped to Dean's chest or maybe they're looking through it. "Dean, I don't hate you. I hate people who hurt my family. Cas...really, really...really...likes you. Like, to an inhuman, obnoxious extent. Please don't ruin it for him...and if you've gotta let him down...let him down easy. He's never taken rejections very well. He might seem calm about all of...this. This entire mess...but he's not.

"Inside, he's freaking the fuck out and he doesn't tell me anything unless it's a real emergency. Unless it's something that could end up biting him in the ass. So please. I am begging. Don't...hurt him. Whichever way you go, whatever words and paths you choose...be careful," his eyes finally meet Dean's again and there's something so forceful there, some kind of love and patience and adoration for Cas that Dean's never seen before in anyone's eyes, that Dean nearly stumbles back. Gabe's love for Cas is so passionate and it's so surprising that Dean has been shocked into near speechlessness.

Because Gabe is not one to feel sorry for people, to love people this much, to be so caring about someone. It just doesn't seem like him, but then again, Dean's decided, he must not know a fraction about what happens in Gabe's candy loving mind considering the vehemently out of character speech he's just given Dean.

"He's my brother, Dean...I can't not ask you to be careful with him. I love him. And he loves you. He's basically handing his heart to you. He's spilled almost every detail of his life to you; barfed his soul up onto a silver platter and he's waiting for you to take it. If you can't, make sure you replace these items gently. And if you can...don't... _break_  anything. He's fragile."

Dean nods, still not believing what he's just heard, not believing the tears in Gabe's eyes. Gabe gives him a curt nod, takes a sharp breath in, and scurries past Dean, opening and closing the door as silently as Dean had, Dean's hand having since fallen from the knob.

He stands in utter incredulity of the situation, of what he's been told.

Cas obviously does like him a lot if he told Gabe about it, and especially if what Gabe said about Cas not coming to him for anything less than emotional life or death situations is true.

Dean decides he's gotten himself into some deep shit.

And he's got a lot to think about.

\--

Dean collapses into his bed and lets his eyelids drift down over his heavy eyes. It's been a long day and he really just wants to sleep. Or drink. Either is fine, and both take the confusion and internal battle away.

Sam, surprisingly, came back to the house after school instead of going over to the Shurleys', but Dean thinks he would have been quite okay if Sam had gone there instead.

Maybe he should tell Sam he's okay with whatever thing the moose has got going on with Gabe.

Because, today, in that closet, Gabe displayed the most caring and loving side of himself, proved to Dean he wasn't just some blonde dude with eyes almost as beautiful as Cas' and an obsession with candy that was looking for nothing more than a quick fuck.

He showed Dean how much he can really care, how much he does care, how much he loves and how passionately he loves. He showed Dean the best and safest side of himself and Dean wishes suddenly that he hadn't been so shocked. He could've found the words to thank the other man, could've somehow conveyed how grateful he really is to him.

If that's the kind of man Gabe really is, hell yeah, he approves of him dating Sam. Shit, it's probably an honour.

And Dean hopes Sam already knows about that side. Hopes that's the side of Gabe that Sam fell in love with, because that's what Sam deserves.

There's a buzzing from his back pocket and he pulls out his cell.

Shit.

Fuck, shit, fuck, mother of fuckin' Mary, Jesus, and Joseph, shit, hell, damn, and every other word that could be considered offensive.

It's Cas.

He ignores the persistent anxiety that's tapping at the glass of his heart and presses the circle to take the call.

"Hey, Cas. Whatcha up to?" Dean tries very hard to sound like he's doesn't feel like he's being electrocuted by a million different bolts of lightning inside, not believing that his voice is as calm as it sounds to him.

"I'm at your house, I hope you don't mind, it's just...Sam told me to come over so..." Dean raises his eyebrows and silently curses his brother's sneaky attitude and praises it at the same time.

"Uh, well...hang on, I'll meet you down there." He hangs up without waiting for an answer and bounces off his bed.

He pounds down the stairs and Sam glances up from his homework, nestled in his spot on the couch, a knowing smirk burning itself into his lips.

"You little fuck, I love you so much. Don't ever call him without telling me again, but do it all the time because I do not have the guts to do it myself. Screw you, you're awesome," Dean's eyebrows are raised in a scolding way but his eyes probably read thankful and adoring.

"I know, Dean. Go get your man, you huge lump of sap," Sam grins up at him for a moment longer then returns to his homework and Dean smiles at the back of his head.

He's got a great brother.

He straightens his flannel in the mirror by the front door, licks his fingers and does what he can with his hair, and checks to make sure he doesn't look like shit in general.

Dean finally opens the front door, and, as promised, Cas stands there, on their front doorstep, his eyes shooting up to meet Dean's, wide and as anxious looking as Dean feels.

Dean's lips part when he sees those eyes again, and he can't find the words he was going to say.

Damnit, this is gonna be harder than be thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best with the years. It's Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, then Senior, right?


	6. Kissing for Dumbasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiel kiss, anyone?

Cas stands before Dean in what he feels like is the most inadequate outfit he's ever had the misfortune of wearing. He blinks up at the older man, expecting him to say...something. Anything really. But finding only green eyes glued to his own blue ones, and then to his lips, and then his eyes again.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greets lamely, stepping aside to let Cas in. Cas smiles because...well... _he_  did that to Dean. _He_  has made him nearly speechless. _He_  has caught him in a moment of admiration.

That's amazing considering just yesterday Dean was freaking out about his own sexuality.

Cas slips past him into the house and waits for him to shut the door. He assumes Sam is here because he's not at the Shurley household, and Gabe kept sighing dramatically on the way home.

"Uh, so...I'm not sure what to say here," Dean laughs, blushing a little. Cas grins brightly at him then shoots him a mischievous look, the one they've always given eachother when they're about to race the other somewhere.

Dean gets the hint but a little too late and Cas starts up the stairs to Dean's room.

"Hey! Not fair!" Dean laughs from behind Cas and he can hear the grin on Dean's voice as he rushes up the stairs.

Unfortunately for Cas, Dean's got inhumanly strong legs and he catches up just as they turn the corner at the top of the stairs. Dean flings himself forward and wraps his arms around Cas' chest and they both go down laughing.

When it subsides, Cas turns his head to find Dean already staring at him. And, oh god, he's got a sparkle in his eye that Cas has only seen him use with...well, not-males. And, he realises, and apparently so does Dean, Dean still has his arms wrapped tightly around Cas's own arms and chest.

And they're laying on the carpeted upstairs floor, and staring at eachother because why the fuck not, and Dean is very, very slowly inching forward, and Sam could walk up the stairs at any moment, or John could get home and see them. And they don't much care about any of it.

Because Dean is furrowing his brows and pressing his lips to Cas' in the shyest and most chaste of kisses. And a million different thoughts sparkle through Cas' head and he can't help the little sensation of hapless joy that nestles itself into his stomach.

And Dean's pulling back not two centimetres from Cas' face and meeting his eyes again, the older man's own dark moss green ones are filled with shock and uncertainty, but, also, most definitely a small smile. That's the part that gets to Cas most.

Dean's lips may not be smiling, but his eyes are, and if that's not a sign that Cas has done something right for once, he doesn't know what is.

"I want to say all these things about you, tell you about all these thoughts I've had and tried to squash down, but I can't begin to find the words," Dean says this so quietly that Cas isn't sure he heard it right.

But his doubts are banished when Dean closes the gap and fits their lips together again. Not as short as that first one, and definitely more sure.

"You're crazy," Cas whispers back; it's his catchphrase remark about Dean, just built with more love than he's usually allowed himself to put in. That's the reason he scowled a couple days ago when Dean said it. Because Dean didn't quite understand. Couldn't have.

"You kidding? You're the one who fell in love with your best friend and then hid it insanely well for past six years," Dean's lips blossom into a small smile and he kisses Cas again. Then one more time. And Cas can't handle the excitement and hope building themselves up in his heart. "Of course, I'm the one who went all six years completely oblivious and who now has you pinned down to my carpet, and is trying to tell you what a total idiot I am."

Cas' grin grows wider, if that's at all possible, and he wraps a hand around Dean's arm which still rests on his chest, lifting the other one to Dean's face.

"You're a sweet idiot, though. You're _my_  sweet idiot."

Cas can't believe he just said that and his heart picks up speed, but so does Dean's - Cas can feel the other man's pulse pounding through his face.

"Maybe we should get up," Dean whispers suddenly and only then does Cas really realise they're still lying on the carpeted floor of the upstairs hallway.

He lets out a breathless laugh and Dean stands, pulling Cas up with him by the hand. When Cas comes up, his face lands a few centimetres from Dean's and he shoots the blonde boy a smile that he hopes is mysterious. Dean cocks a brow before Cas is kissing him again, because, goddamnit all if he can't get enough of those lips.

"Sorry. I had to," Cas says when he separates their faces, his lips brushing Dean's as he speaks because God knows he only pulled less than a millimetre away.

"Don't apologise. It's annoying," Dean teases, mocking his statement from the day before. "And of course you had to. Otherwise I would have done it."

Cas grins at this, at the entire situation, and pulls Dean into him, his arms tight around Dean's shoulders and face nuzzling comfortably into the hollow of his neck.

And Dean doesn't hesitate to hug him back, slipping one arm around Cas' waist and lifting his free hand to the back of Cas' head, brushing his fingers up through the shaggy hair there.

"Hugging you this way is a thousand times more beautiful than I thought it would be," Cas whispers and he can feel Dean let out a kind of breathless laugh against the side of his head.

"Hugging me what way?"

 _In a more-than-friends way_ , is what Cas means to say, but what comes out is a billion times more terrifying.

"In a way where I can finally tell you I lo...um..." Cas makes sure to cut himself off and gulps, hoping Dean doesn't question it. But, of course, it's Dean.

"You...what, Cas?" Dean pulls away and brings his hands up to Cas' face, holding it so that Cas can't look down. He bites his lip but Cas can tell he's grinning. "We both know it. And quite frankly I kind of need to hear it right now because I'm still having this huge internal panic attack because apparently I'm not actually straight and, God, Cas I just kissed you, like, five times, please just say it."

Castiel's eyes grow to the widest they've ever been and he stares at Dean, finding no words in his mind besides the ones he was about to recklessly blurt out.

His lips move aimlessly a couple of times, trying to search for aforementioned words and he stumbles over his own tongue for a second before remembering how to speak.

"Tell you...t-tell...you...that I love you," Cas mumbles and Dean smiles so broadly, Cas thinks the top half of his face might fall off. Cas remains unsure, despite that smile, but finds the bravery, nevertheless, to lift his hand to Dean's cheek and circle his thumb over the slight stubble there. "I am...so...inexplicably, inexorably in love with you, Dean Winchester. My heart has been sitting on my sleeve for six years waiting for you to get that through your thick skull. And to know...you feel the same...is kind of a dream come true. And that doesn't usually happen to me so, uh...sorry if I scream or anything."

Cas laughs and so does Dean, who brings their foreheads together and brings his arms back down to Cas's waist.

"Glad I can make your day, angel," Dean whispers and Cas lifts his eyes in surprise at the use of his old nickname - old because he hasn't heard it in about all of three years.

"You haven't called me that in forever."

"Well, I thought it was a little weird when we got to freshman year...to be honest, I didn't want people thinking we were...well, together..." Dean bites his lips and drops his head guiltily.

"No, hey...that's fine...I totally get it. Dean, I can't get mad at you for something like that...I mean not because I feel like I owe you or anything but..." Cas curls his finger beneath Dean's chin and forces him to look up. "You were one of the only two friends to stay my friend when I came out. All the others? Gone, Dean. Either thought I told them because I had a crush on them or just thought it was too taboo. Five of the people who left me because of it have tried to be my friends again but...you and Sam? You're the only two people who stayed. And that's...such an amazing...brave thing to do...to do something that nobody else is doing. I can't thank you enough.

"What I'm trying to say is...even just staying was enough for me, Dean. You didn't have to do anything more than that. Hell, you didn't even have to do that at all. But you did. Stay. And, like I said, I couldn't ask for a better friend. So...don't apologise..." Cas squints mischievously and mocks Dean by adding, "it's annoying."

Cas notices that there are tears in Dean's eyes and he straightens up, his first instinct being the need to protect his friend.

"What, what happened, did I say something?"

"No," Dean smiles and sniffs and drags his hand down the side of Cas' face. "No, Cas...I mean yes, you...you did say something...the best thing...I promise you didn't do anything wrong. I just..." He laughs breathlessly for what seems like the millionth time today. "God, I can't believe I never knew. I'm so stupid. And you're so thankful just to have me in your life at all and...I can't believe I...I'm so oblivious aren't I? You probably thought I was the dumbest guy in the world, holy shit."

Dean keeps shaking his head and laughing and Cas thinks he's getting hysterical so he catches Dean's face in his hands and swipes the tears from under his eyes. He shakes his own head very slowly and pulls Dean to him, and their lips meet, yet again.

But this time, Dean parts his and Cas gasps. Because their lips fit together so perfectly, literally like pieces to a puzzle and Cas is in baffled wonderment at how they could have possibly gone this long without letting themselves do this. And their lips slide against eachother so beautifully and desperately and oh, God, Dean tastes amazing; like leather and wood and whiskey and night time and danger and green eyes and a deep voice and something that's positively just Dean.

Cas makes a sound low in his throat, something resembling a moan, and Dean kisses him harder and, Jesus Christ, it feels so good.

Then, Dean pulls away all too quickly and Cas nearly whines because, wow, he didn't know how much he needed Dean's lips on his until it actually happened.

"Sorry. Sorry, I just...I-I mean, Cas, I just realised I'm not as straight as I thought I was and I--"

"Dean, shush. I know. I get it," Cas shakes his head and kisses Dean's nose, which invokes a soft smile from Dean's swollen lips. "We can go as slowly as you need. I promise. I don't want to force you into anything and...I certainly don't want to scare you off...I just got you...can't lose you yet."

Dean's smile falters and he furrows his eyebrows.

"Won't lose me, Cas. But thanks. I need that. Now...uh, we _are_  still in the hallway," he reminds Cas, who suddenly realises, again, that they are indeed still in the hallway.

"Oh, Jesus, let's just go to your room," Cas laughs and Dean smiles, biting his lip and stumbling backward toward the staircase, Cas in tow.

"I have a better idea," Dean widens his eyes and waggles his brows and he momentarily reminds Cas for all the world of Gabriel.

He laughs at Dean's mysterious behaviour and shakes his head.

This is gonna be good.

It's Dean, after all.


	7. Summer Lovin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Profound!cas is great at sweet talking

Dean calls to Sam as they step off the stairs and tells him they're 'going out so invite Gabe over or something', which, of course, Cas chuckles at.

Dean won't tell him where they're going because, 'no way it's supposed to be a surprise' and there's no definite plan yet. So, damn right, he's keeping it a secret.

He got the idea when he suddenly remembered something Cas said about a year after they met.

He prods Cas into the passenger side of the Impala and slips into the driver's seat, starts the car, throws his arm over the back of the seat and behind Cas (on purpose), and pulls out of the driveway in a squeal of tires and a few surprised gasps from Cas.

He laughs maniacally at Cas' shock and noises of complaint.

"You're. Fucking. Crazy. How many times do I have to say that."

"You don't _have_  to say it," Dean replies, splaying his fingers and carding them through Cas' hair before continuing, "because I already know."

"And you're hilarious. And beautiful. And strong and perfect and pretty damn dreamy, and, God, those eyes."

"I just want you to know how great you are at sweet talkin', ya big sap," Dean says, his voice wrapped in amusement.

"You want me to keep going?" Cas laughs, grinning out the front window.

"Hell yeah," Dean smiles too and pulls Cas across the seat so he's sitting directly next to him. Cas habitually leans his head against Dean's shoulder and, this time, he shifts so his face is buried in Dean's neck, and he plants a kiss on the heated skin there, and Dean feels the soft blush creeping up from his shoulders.

From this close up, he can probably see the light smattering of freckles on the flesh of this part of Dean's body. Cas has only really ever been able to see the ones sprinkling Dean's face and shoulders and some of the ones that are more prominent on his chest and stomach when they're in the locker room, joking around, or in the shower, talking over the stalls that only come up to the tops of their chests.

Dean can feel him counting them and Cas continues speaking, which is a relief because he hasn't in a few minutes.

"Well, your eyes...they're like...a mixture of all the forests and jungles and seas and oceans in the world, like God took little pieces of each and mixed them all into a bowl and poured them into your eyes, and then decided they needed some gold and red too. They're so unlike anything I've ever seen and I've been dying to tell you how incredible they are, to kiss your eyelids.

"And don't even get me started on the freckles. Goddamnit, Dean, your freckles are the best. I know you hate them but I really don't care, because they're so beautiful and they just...they add something. Make you prettier or...I don't even know. And your laugh.

"My God, your laugh; it's so unbelievably unique. It's like...every time you laugh, 1000 unicorns are born and a hundred different species come back from extinction. Same with your smile. Dean, your smile is so insanely gorgeous and every time I see it I get an annoying amount of shivers up my spine. It's crazy. Like you.

"And your voice? I mean, when you talk, it's so captivating, so hypnotising, and I can never bring myself to look away from you when you speak, and, Dean, when you sing...I can't even...begin-I mean, there are no human words to describe how fantastic your voice is. It's so gravelly and light and just...I mean, you should really reconsider being a mechanic for your Uncle. You should be a professional vocal artist. Seriously."

A sad pause.

Then.

"But, most of all...you're so...you're just so sweet. In every possible way. And it doesn't matter how well you hide it from other people, because _I_  know what you've got hiding inside that tough, masculine outer shell of yours. And it's this sweet, poetic guy who's instinctually protective but allows the freedom he knows other people deserve, strong but gentle, brave and daring but able to acknowledge his limits, nearly fearless and completely hates conformity. You're terrible at words but that's okay because you make up for that with your actions.

"You're so much more intelligent than you think, than you let on, and I'm thoroughly disappointed that you don't show that side of you more often. And you're just...God, Dean...you're so amazing in every way possible and I can't get enough, enough of you, of the way you smell, enough of your smile and your laugh, of your entire personality, of how you make me feel...

"I've been dying to say all these things and I finally can," Cas finally finishes, not like Dean minds, and presses another kiss to Dean's neck. "These are only half the reasons I love you, Dean Winchester."

"Christ, Cas," Dean whispers, then doesn't give him time to answer and somehow twists in the seat and finds Cas' face with his hands, bringing their lips together again in the sweetest, most desperate kiss he's ever had with anyone ever. It's wanting but gentle, and Dean never realised how much he needs the taste of Cas' lips on his, how much he needs to feel them fitting between his.

And Dean may be confused as all fuck about who he is right now, but none of it could matter less in this moment, because, right now, everything else falls away around him, and it's just him and Cas, surrounded by nothing but a beautifully galactic, star ridden eternity; an oblivion of planets and deep purple skies and giant spheres of fire, and them, pulling eachother closer than ever before, twisting fingers in hair and fabric, wrapping strong arms around waists and squeezing and never letting go.

Cas pulls back all too quickly and stares at Dean for the longest of moments, rings of blue nearly obsolete with his pupils blown so wide.

"Shouldn't you be driving?" Cas asks with a smirk and Dean realises Cas must not know they got where they were going almost fifteen minutes ago.

"Not unless you wanna drive off a cliff," he replies with his own smirk and Cas furrows his brows, whipping his head to the windshield and immediately un-furrowing his brows when his ever-widening eyes find what they're parked in front of. "I mean, I could put the car in reverse and back out but that wouldn't be much fun, now, would it?"

"How did you..."

"At the end of the summer between year seven and eight, we got totally wasted with Gabriel, Sam, Charlie, and Anna, because your parents were out of town for a week," Dean pulls Cas even closer and presses a secret kiss to the younger man's temple.

"Yeah I remember that," Cas mumbles, eyes still twitching around and surveying the view, taking all of it in while he can.

"Well, I don't know if you remember all of it." Cas furrows his brows again but doesn't do more than give Dean a sideways glance. Dean knows Cas can't see his face, but he grins anyway. "See, I never got _as_  drunk as _you_ idiots. So I remember a lot more. One of the things I remember is me and you, sitting on the couch, all slumpy and lazy, and you looking up and saying, 'Dean, if we were to ever date, I'd want our first date to be a sunset on the edge of the tallest cliff at Wood Crest lake'. Of course..." He smiles wider and presses another kiss to Cas' skull and watches the blush on his cheeks, "it was a little more slurred than that. I still understood it though...obviously."

"So this...this is..." Cas hesitates, then turns his head slowly to face Dean with a small smile. "Are you saying this is our first date, Winchester?"

"I sure am."

"Why didn't you shut me up? I was most definitely rambling, Dean. You know I hate doing that to y--"

"Because I was shocked...Cas, I was, not for the first time today, and probably not for the last, shocked. Into speechlessness. I was amazed...baffled...that you could love me...and then you said all those things and I...I just wanted to listen. I just wanted an explanation because hell knows I couldn't think of one, myself, _Shurley_ ," he tilts his head and looks down at Cas with gentle eyes, searching the dark-haired boy's face and swallowing, lips parting, when he sees the wideness of Cas' eyes, the...not innocence...but... curiousity maybe? Either way, he shakes his head and kisses Cas' nose. "Honestly, I shed a few tears...because, again...I...I mean you love me, always have...for so much more than I thought. And here I was, still am, oblivious and stupid.

"And I...I think I miget love you, too, Cas. And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to admit that. And...I'm sorry I...I mean, you were right. I'm terrible with words. I don't know how to say the things I want to say to you right now. I don't know how to beat what you just said to me," he laughs again, on the edge of tears. His lip wobbles, and he can't think of a thing to say, so he kisses Cas again, warm and slow, his thumb sliding over Cas' cheek, and his lips locking so perfectly with Cas's as if they've done this more than seven times before, as if they've been doing it forever.

"Dean," Cas murmurs against Dean's lips and he hums. "Dean I wanna-" kiss "-see the-" another kiss "-sunset."

Dean only hums again, and, after one more kiss, pulls away and nuzzles his face into the crook of Cas' neck where it meets his shoulder.

"Go ahead, lover boy."

"Oh, _I'm_  the lover boy," Cas suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes--"

"And what-" Dean kisses his neck "-makes me the lover boy, mr. I-refuse-to-stop-kissing-my-best-friend-so-he-can-do-what-we-came-here-for?"

"Well...you had a crush on me first...so there."

"And you're still a giant sap, you beautiful, rippling God," Cas bites his lip, shaking with silent laughter.

"So wait, am I sap or a God...because saps are sweet and chick-flick-y and Gods are viscous and apathetic," Dean replies with a taunt, trying to push Cas to where he wants him.

"Dean."

"And I don't know which is worse, to be honest, being all lovey-dovey and bleh or bein--"

Cas grabs his face and kisses him again and yes, this is exactly what Dean was aiming for. The kiss is quick and hard and Dean smiles against Cas' lips in amusement.

"Would you shut the fuck up and watch the sunset, you asshole," Cas whispers when he breaks away and it's more of a statement than a question so Dean smiles wider and nods, looping an arm back around Cas' shoulders and watching Cas' head fall against his shoulder again.

He leans his own head against Castiel's and his eyes flicker up to the sunset every once in a while in the hour and a half that they stay there...

He's too busy watching Cas.


	8. Moonlit Marvels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SSSSSSMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating will be changing to M, as this is a smuttastic chapter. You're welcome.

Friday night.

Cas lies, shirtless, buried beneath Dean's arm in Dean's bed, remembering Monday and how they fell asleep watching the sunset, although, he's completely sure he felt Dean's eyes on him almost the entire time.

They woke at 11 p.m. and giggled like thirteen year old girls because they weren't supposed to be out that late, then snuck home. Well, Dean's home. Cas didn't make it home that night, fell asleep wrapped up like a present in Dean's arms, topped off with the bow that was Dean's lips planted firmly on his forehead. 

And now, he lies awake in Dean's arms again, watching the boy sleep because it's three in the morning and even Dean didn't resign himself to sleep's grasping claw until two a.m.

Cas knows it could be considered weird to watch someone sleep. But there's something about Dean, when he's nestled in slumber, that captures Cas' attention. Something so breathtaking and innocent looking. Because Dean in sleep doesn't look seventeen and a half anymore. He looks as though he's got about all of eight years to his life, features so soft and delicate, relaxed, unlike how he is in consciousness.

When Dean is awake, he's either frowning or smiling or looking bored as all hell. And Cas has never seen his features so gentle save for the times Dean looks at Cas in that way. Like on Monday, after the fervent words he spouted so carelessly, only to find out Dean loves him the same way and is, as he's always known, unable to find the words to admit it.

And so Cas drinks in as much of the view as he can before he falls into his own sleep.

He thinks about this past week, how many times they've kissed eachother in secret and how no one's thought twice about them hanging out around school because they've been best friends for a while now so it's not surprising if someone were to look up and see them walking together, smiling together. Except Sam knows. He knows everything. As Cas has come to realise. And for whatever reason, Gabe keeps smirking, like he knows too. Like he knows what happened and what's happening now.

And Cas thinks that he just might, because, who knows? It's Gabe.

He thinks about how much he loves Dean and how he's able to say that now, and he reaches up and brushes his hand back over Dean's soft face and smiles. Because he's not quite used to being able to touch Dean like this, like he's wanted to for so long.

He kisses Dean's forehead because now he _can_. Because he's always wanted to... _and now he_ _can_.

Dean's eyes open suddenly, and Cas gasps, nearly rolling off the bed in a fit of startled bafflement.

"Well, good morning to you too, weird, creepy dude watching me sleep," Dean quips, a sly smile creeping up onto his lips as he watches Cas blush. "Amazing way to wake up actually...and at..." Dean pauses and peeks over Cas' shoulder, squinting at the electric clock on his nightstand, then continuing, "three in the morning."

"I didn't mean to. I was just..." Cas drops his gaze sheepishly and blushes hotter, if that's remotely possible. "I happen to enjoy watching you sleep, you're more...delicate..."

Dean raises his eyebrows and offers a mischievous sideways smile and suddenly Dean is swinging a leg over Cas and straddling his hips, pinning Cas to the bed with one arm across his chest and one hand holding both of Cas' wrists above his head.

His lips find Cas' neck in a bewildering flurry of sudden lust and Dean places a billion wet, open-mouthed kisses against the heated skin there, trailing from where Cas' neck meets his shoulder, up to right below his ear, then the corner of his jaw and toward his chin, and finally landing desperately on Cas' lips, sucking and nipping and soothing the pink-tinted flesh, pushing his tongue into Cas' mouth.

Dean grinds his hips down against Cas', who finds he's not the only one with an erection. Their cocks rub together through the fabric of their boxers and Cas lets out a strangled moan, trying to keep quiet as Sam is still home. Dean lifts his hips slightly, panting against Cas' neck, and Cas almost whines because, God, does he want to feel that again.

But Dean's got complete control right now and Cas doesn't mind giving up his own. Especially because it's Dean. And holy shit, is it hot when Dean makes himself dominant like this.

Cas feels Dean's teeth sinking into his neck and allows another moan to slip from his lips, this one louder, and he almost regrets not restraining himself but he just can't right now.

A sudden thought slinks through Cas' mind and he breaks himself out of his daze long enough to ask Dean a question. A very important one.

"What are you doing?" It's not harsh, which is good, because he doesn't mean it to be. But it is rather tentative and he wishes he could sound more curious.

"'Delicate' is not a word I enjoy hearing when people describe me, Cas. I plan on showing you just how not-delicate I am," Dean growls that last part and his lips find Cas' skin again as soon as he's finished speaking.

"My God, Dean, you're--"❌

"I swear to whatever the hell's out there, if you tell me I'm crazy one more time, I'll show you crazy, too," Dean breathes out in a rush against the skin behind Cas's ear and Cas shivers at both the words and the brush of lips against that sensitive part of his flesh.

"Well, I was gonna say 'you're unbelievably insane' but I've got a sinking feeling that that's a bit too close to 'you're crazy' so I'll refrain from saying anything."

Breathy laugh on Dean's wolfish lips.

"Though, I might want you to scream my name at some point," Dean murmurs in reply against Cas' earlobe and Cas grunts, then shudders and wishes he could touch Dean, wrap his arms around Dean's waist, but Dean's got a vice-like grip on his wrists and while Cas has got the strength to push him off, he doesn't really want to.

Dean's hand snakes down between their nearly flush bodies and cups Cas' growing cock, squeezing lightly and rubbing upward. It's hesitant, and, of course, Dean's first time with a guy. But Cas has complete trust in Dean, otherwise he wouldn't be letting Dean pin his hands above his head. But also, Cas is sure, Dean kind of knows what he's doing because, well, he's a guy too...guys usually know what guys like so...why should Dean be an exception.

"Oh, shit," Cas breathes against Dean's shoulder, because Dean is getting more confident with his hands, and Cas' need to touch Dean is becoming almost painful.

Dean seems to sense Cas' exigency, his urge, and releases his hold, bringing his hand down, instead, to Cas' cheek and finding Cas's lips with his again.

"Tell me what you want, Cas," Dean whispers brokenly and, because Cas still hasn't moved his arms - God, he wants to move his arms, why can't he move them - Dean tugs one down and kisses the very centre of Cas' soft palm, his lips lingering there, and Cas wants to imagine that Dean is feeling the pulse of hot blood thrumming through blue-eyed boy's veins, relentlessly giving away his state of arousal if his erection wasn't proof enough already.

"You, Dean. God, I want you. I always have," he whispers in reply, and just prays he doesn't sound desperate. But, really, who wouldn't in his position, pinned beneath Dean fucking Winchester.

Dean nods, mouth brushing over Cas' jaw once again, where it's paused to administer a series of hot kisses.

"Okay," Dean murmurs, lips still ghosting the edge. "Okay, baby. Anything. I'll give you anything."

Cas gasps, part pleasure and part surprise for Dean's words, and Dean's hand becomes more brazen, lifting briefly then slipping beneath Cas' sweat pants and finding his heavy length, un-buffered by briefs because Cas is reckless and hopeful. Looks like it's paying off.

Dean uses his forearm to shove Cas' pants halfway down his thighs and starts pumping, calloused hand stroking up softly, still tentative.

Castiel's hips buck up encouragingly and his straining throat releases a breathless moan. His legs spread wider without him telling them to, but he doesn't think he's able to care because Dean's teeth are on his skin again, and Dean's hand is dragging Cas to orgasm, and Dean's rutting against Cas' thigh, and whispering low in Cas' ear - "That's right, baby. That's right, Cas, come for me. I want you to come for me" - and everything is so perfect.

Dean pulls away from Cas's ear and watches his face, eyes coming to rest on Cas's, and God, the sodium moonlight soaking through the open window lights up Dean's face, glints off the leafy green and sandy gold of his eyes, and Cas is gasping and his hips are rolling.

"Wanna see you, Cas," Dean whispers, his voice cutting off into a choked moan. "Wanna see you when I make you come."

Cas can't answer, his mouth hanging open, jaw uselessly unhinged, eyes hooded, and he can't even bring himself to nod because Dean's hand is circling him and stroking up and his other hand is bracketing Cas' head, holding Dean up. And God, he's so beautiful, so incredible and now Dean's coming in his gym shorts, his face twisting and a strangled moan forcing itself through his lips and Cas can't take it.

He simply can't. A soft breeze rustles Dean's hair, his hand keeps pumping.

The curtains billow and Cas comes hard and thick, white lines shooting up and painting his stomach and a suppressed moan falling from his mouth.

Dean stares at him a second longer, eyes twitching between Cas', pupils still blown but green able to be seen.

"Christ," Dean mutters, and his head drops again and Cas feels wet lips dragging across his chest.

He breathes out and his eyes find the ceiling fan, watch it spin and spin and spin, blue circling in tandem with white.

"Christ, Cas," Dean repeats, even more quiet than before, and his lips find Cas's, and his tongue drips into his welcoming mouth, and Cas immerses himself in the grace and love of Dean Winchester.

Languid kiss and lazy tongues. Sated smiles.

Dean collapses, first on top of Cas, and then he rolls off and lands next to him, and Cas still can't speak.

Dean notices.

"Cas? Baby, you okay?" Dean whispers, lips to his ear, and Cas shivers, nods.

"Yeah," he squeaks, finding his voice and clearing his throat. "Yes...God, I'm better than okay. I'm...I'm fucking amazing. You... _you_...are fucking amazing. Jesus, Dean."

Dean chuckles, low and breathy, and presses a short kiss to Cas' neck.

"I know," Dean says, cocky amusement penetrating his lips, and Cas elbows him, grinning.

Dean laughs and attacks Cas' neck with a billion more kisses, small giggles escaping as Cas grins wider.

When they're settled again, Cas turns his head and his face is so close to Dean's, the tips of their noses touching, and Cas can see every single freckle that spots Dean's nose and cheeks and forehead. And he's so breathtaking, with his damn sandy blonde hair, his damn moss green eyes, his damn perfect pink lips, his damn great muscles, and those damn, fucking, honest-to-God, angel-kissed, golden freckles.

"I love you, you know," Cas whispers and Dean's lips part but he shows no surprise in his eyes and Cas guesses that he knew. Guesses Dean has always known.

"I think I love you, too," Dean whispers and Cas is sure the world just stopped spinning...only for a second...only for a short, wonderful second. Dean's eyes turn so soft and watery and Cas brings his eyebrows down, knitting them together. "My gorgeous, perfect, heart-stopping angel. Beautiful, you know that, right?"

"Well if it were anybody else, I wouldn't believe it for a second," Cas starts and Dean's eyes flicker to surprised pity for a second before they go back to adoration. "And I probably wouldn't have believed you before this. Before any of this. If Dean most-wanted-guy-at-school Winchester had walked up to me two weeks ago and told me I was beautiful, I would have walked away with tears in my eyes because I would've thought it was a sick joke. But you're mine now. And I'm yours. And I love you. And I think that you think you love me. So I believe you, Dean Winchester. I believe you."

Dean's eyes sag with tears unshed, his mouth lifts into a weak smile as a breathy sort of laugh makes its way through his lips, fleeting and disbelieving. He shakes his head and a drop falls loose from his eye and trails down his cheek.

And Dean kisses him again, and Cas kisses back, hand coming up to hold Dean's cheek, soothing, solid, reassuring.

And everything is good. And everything is okay.

And they'll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must clarify: for every fic I write, the chapters are always pre-written (yes, every single one of them) - which means I write them all before posting anything - as this helps me keep track of things that have already happened. If ever you feel I'm posting too quickly, simply remember I'm posting things I've already written.


	9. Sister and Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Dean are awesome. Sam is grumpy. John is a good dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter yet

Dean waits until he hears John's car pulling out of the driveway before letting Cas out of the bathroom, because God knows what John would do if he found out Cas stayed over. With Dean. In Dean's bed. With his dick in Dean's hand.

They make their way down to the front door and kiss quickly, a peck of a thing, and then once more. And then a third time, and who is Dean kidding, he would kiss Cas all day if he could. But he can't. His dad will be home in thirty minutes or less so Cas needs to slip out as swiftly as he can.

Dean wraps his boyfriend in a ginger hug, arms tight around his neck, lips spewing sweet nothings against Cas's ear and they stand there for a while, probably longer than they should, just holding eachother. Just breathing eachother in, memorising eachother...

And finally, Cas has to break the hug and he steps out through the door, and Dean grabs his wrist and pulls him back and kisses him one more time and then Cas is gone, treading through fallen golden leaves, shoulders hunching, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He glances back once, twice at Dean standing in the doorway before Dean closes the door and leans against it, feeling inexplicably like a sixteen year old girl falling in stupid, hapless love.

Might as well be. It's not hard to see how much he's loving the time spent with Cas, hell, even the time spent away from him because even then, the image of Cas - his smile and his egyptian blue eyes, deep as outer space and holding as many stars too, his dark brown hair and his broad shoulders, the way he looks at Dean and the way his lips lift up when he laughs - it's all burned into Dean's strung out brain. All so crystal clear when the image of Cas pops up, and that's why he's able to love the time he's not with Cas, not wrapped up in Cas' arms and in his love, because he's still there, in Dean's head, and that's just fine with Dean.

So, no it's not hard to see, and it's so easy to tell that other people see it because they talk about it. Sam talks about it. Confronts Dean again and again, asking 'how's it going with Cas' and smirking like the shit-eater he fuckin' is.

And Dean just grins back, feels the pink spotting the peaks of his cheeks and entirely not able to give a horses ass about what his damn stupid cheeks might be implying.

But Sam seems happy, content with his own - Dean suspects - boyfriend, and he seems glad that Dean's feeling okay too.

Everything is perfect. John's not yelling at them to straighten up, probably suspects Dean's relationship with how often Cas is over here, but he doesn't say anything about it and it's bewildering and relieving at the same time.

But John gives him looks. Even more surprisingly, they don't hold disgust or resentment, but a careful, implicit kind of understanding and, Dean's almost sure, he thinks he once saw a glimmer of pride in his Dad's earthy brown orbs - that one night when they were eating dinner and Dean started gushing about Cas again.

So, yeah. Everything is great. Dean feels great.

He has Cas. Sam has Gabe.

Dean's phone buzzes against his butt and he pulls it out and smirks at the name glaring up at him.

"Hey, Gryffinbury," Dean starts, hoping she can hear his smirk through the phone. "What's shakin', riding hood."

"For the last time, Winchester, just because I have red hair, it does not make me a Brother's Grimm character," her voice sounds tinny through the speaker and there's a staticky pause. "Okay, but you know I'm a sucker for their book."

They share a laugh and Dean bites his lip. Cas might be his boyfriend and there's no doubt that he brightens Dean's day immeasurably, but talking to Charlie will always and forever be one of his favourite pass-times.

"Anyway, I called, one, because I totally need to know how it's going with Castiel, mr. I-continue-to-insist-I'm-straight-as-an-arrow," he can feel her playful, disapproving stare through the phone and he has the grace to blush and feel a bit ashamed, but then she's talking again. "And! I have to tell you about this new girl at school--" 

"Jesus Christ, Charlie--"

"It'll only take a second--"

"Charlie--"

"Dean, I have to tell you! I can't help it, she's just so--"

"Come on--"

"Dean--"

"Charlie--"

"Please?" She begs and Dean can't see her but he knows her well enough to be able to picture the face she's making, eyebrows pulled up, sweet little smile and puppy dog eyes that don't even come close to challenging Sam's. And he gives in because, even without her here, he can't stand that stupid, cute smile pleading with him.

"Fine," he sighs into the phone and she squeals on the other end.

"Oh. My. God. Dean. She's so fucking gorgeous, I can't even begin to describe it. Her name's Dorothy and she's so sweet but she's also badass, you know? Like really tough and independent - she pulled up to school on a motorcycle, Dean. A motorcycle. And her hair has this amazing natural curl and--"

"Okay, hold up, how do you even know if she's...not straight," he interrupts her because damn, can that girl talk. She didn't even pause to breathe and now there's just silence on the other end.

"Well..." Her voice comes slow and unsure, and Dean rolls his eyes. "Okay, well...I don't actually... _know_ , per say," she laughs self-deprecatingly. Dean can picture her right shoulder raising in uncertainty and the way her eyebrows pull up and her bashful smile. "But Dean, she's just...oh God, she's amazing. She's definitely a Gryffindor. But, Dean," she pauses, her voice breaking and becoming very quiet, kind of sad, a side of her that Dean is the only one allowed to see. "I'm just a Hufflepuff and I'm so hopeless."

"Hey, now," Dean turns on the scolding voice he uses when Charlie puts herself down like this, and he straightens up as if he's actually talking to her in person. "Charlie Bradbury, don't you dare think for a second that you're not tough as nails. The Charlie Bradbury I know is the most Gryffindor someone can get and think how disappointed Hermoine would be with you, young lady." That gets a laugh out of her. A sad one, but a laugh, nonetheless. "Now you get you're head out of your over-obsessed ass and ask her out. Just go for it."

"Dean, I don't really think you should be the first person to give lectures about LGBTQ dating," she giggles and Dean hears fabric rustling on the other end.

"Yeah, well..." He can't think of anything. "You have red hair."

"Good job Dean," she teases, snickering. "Gold star for you."

"Shaddup."

"Okay, well...how do you propose I woo the princess of Oz."

"Just tell her. I mean...that's--"

"If you even try to say that's how you got Cas, I will fly to your house on my rainbow Pegasus and whip your ass to China, then let my ride shit gayness all over your face, because you, Dean Winchester, got a boner."

"How did you--"

"Cas told me," she sniggers and Dean narrows his eyes at nothing, huffing like a petulant child.

"Well, whatever," he continues, trying to ignore Charlie's giggles in the speaker. "Either way, just be your geeky, badass self because I guarantee she'll like you, even if only as a friend. Go be your weirdest, nerdiest self and be the proudest Gryffindor you can be. How does that sound?"

Dean can hear her grateful, loving smile and he smiles back.

"Sounds like a plan Dean," she says quietly and his heart skips a beat. Just one beat. Because he loves Charlie. Loves her with everything he has. "Speaking of gay, how's it going with Cas."

Dean's learned to stop flinching at that word when it's used to describe him, has become immune to Charlie's constant onslaught and excessive use of the word when she talks to him (though he's really only bi) and if he's being completely honest with himself, it doesn't bother him one bit.

"Cas is...he's...he's good," he starts and then it all just flows out because he's kidding himself if he holds back, if he tries to convince himself that he doesn't want to talk about it, share it with the world, show his boyfriend off and make sure people know he's Dean's. "God, Charlie," he sinks back into the wall, what seems to be a perennial grin plastered to his reddening cheeks. "God...I can't even...he's so fucking amazing. He's so amazing. And I know I was so hesitant before, and I was so unsure, and I just feel stupid now, because how could I...how could I have gone this long not knowing, not seeing the love in his eyes every time he looks at me. Charlie, I've got him memorised down to the way he fucking breathes because I can't even begin to get enough of him."

She's silent as he continues, gushing about Cas, about his eyes that hold the universe and about his smile that shines bright as the sun, about the way Cas sits when he's relaxed and about the way his lips move slightly when he's reading, about the smallest things, things that would seem so random to anybody else but are all the things Dean loves so much about Cas. He talks about how he can't keep his hands off Cas even when they're at school and anybody could see how in love they are, and he talks about the way his hair falls in loose, haphazard strands over his eyes sometimes and how he gets this urge to brush those stands out of Cas' beautiful face, and he talks about Cas's voice and the way it cracks sometimes when he's talking about something he's passionate about, and he talks about that passion and how breathtaking it is to know it's there and that he puts a lot of that passion into the way he loves Dean, and he talks about how Cas refuses to throw away this one pair of socks even though there are at least three holes in each of them because he's sentimental like that.

Dean talks and talks and all the while Charlie remains silent, just listens and doesn't say a word. And her silence would be strange, would be deafening to anyone else but Dean finds solace in her welcoming ears and he's so drunk on Cas that he can't figure out how to shut the fuck up but he also can't muster the ability to care if he's being annoying. And, somehow, he knows he's not. This is Charlie. She lives and breathes for stories about other not-straight couples, at least when she's not obsessing over computers or Harry Potter.

So, Dean talks. And she listens.

And when he finally runs out of words to say, he falls silent. And there's some sort of comfortable, understanding silence shared between them, and Dean can feel Charlie's adoring smile.

"I think..." He whispers, voice breaking and weak. "I think I'm in love with him, Charlie. I'm in trouble and I'm so fucking stupid and I hate how reckless I'm being...and I'm in love with him."

"I couldn't tell," she whispers back, and it's supposed to be a joke, a taunt, because that's what Charlie does...but they're both so wrecked and hapless and lost in the deepest nethers of cloud fucking nine that neither of them can bring themselves to laugh. Dean imagines Charlie in the same position he's in right now, slumped against the wall in her hallway, head hanging back against the plaster and eyes searching the ceiling. He imagines she feels just as hopelessly free as he does and that she feels so fucked.

But they're both in love and that's what love does. It hits you hard like a knee to the nose and then takes your hand and starts jogging, never looking back or slowing down to make sure you're okay. It just comes quickly and then runs.

And Dean kind of hates love right now for dragging him along while his nose bleeds profusely and he worries about whether it's broken.

But, if he's honest...he can't help but move his feet too, can't help but let love pull him along. Because, God, love is so beautiful.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Charlie's voice yanks him back to the present and only when her words register does he realise he's started crying - sobbing, actually. Charlie must have heard; hell, the whole neighbourhood must have heard, and he can't seem to stop the tears, can't seem to make them go away, no matter how hard he presses the heel of his hand to his eye, they just won't stop coming. "Dean Winchester. Crying. About a guy. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up," he sniffs, lips lifting in a sad smile as another contemplative pause drifts in the static between them. Then he adds, very quietly, "But I never thought I'd see the day either."

Dean listens to the girl he considers a sister take a huge breath in and then sigh dramatically.

"Oh, we are so _scrrreeeewwwwed_ ," she groans and he laughs into the phone, mood lighter again.

"That we are, Bradbury," he replies. "That we are."

"Well, I'm off to ask out the girl of my dreams and you can sit there and sulk about finding out you're not so straight," she teases him and he shakes his head even though he knows she can't see.

"Love you, Charlie," he says and she giggles.

"I know," her usual response.

"You go get your princess."

"I will."

"Thanks for listening, Charlie."

"Peace, bitch," she laughs and Dean smiles before lowering the phone and hanging up.

Soft footsteps make the stairs creak and Dean looks up, eyebrows raised.

Sam shuffles down the stairs, clad in a pair of John's old Mariner's sweats that bunch up around his ankles, long even on Sam's obnoxious colt legs, and a plain white t-shirt, and, of course, his too-long, floppy chestnut hair that sticks up in every direction from queast to snud and makes him look like the overgrown puppy he is.

He rubs his eye with his fist and clings to the railing as he stands, stopped on the third stair up, glaring indignantly at Dean and making himself look about all of four years old again when he would stomp down the stairs after a nap, grumpy and still waking up.

And Dean loves him so much, and he can't help the sudden pang he feels in his heart because he loves Sam. He just loves Sam and he loves Charlie and he loves Cas and he's just in a great mood and he feels like his life couldn't get any better.

"Hey, Ravenclaw, what's poppin'?" Dean says, dropping his phone in his lap along with his hands. "Finally awake, white owl? Ready for the Sorting Hat?"

"I can tell you were just talking to Charlie because the Harry Potter references are spewing from your mouth like a fucking sprinkler on high," Sam mutters and steps down the last few stairs to the landing, approaching Dean and stopping in front of him, standing at Dean's feet. "Is that why you're sitting on the cold, hard floor, Hufflepuff?"

"I am most definitely not a Hufflepuff, you halfblood muggle."

"That does even make sense--"

"You don't...make sense. Fuckin' nerd," Dean plasters a stupid grin to his face as he stares up at Sam's glowering hazel eyes and then heaves himself up and starts the trek to the kitchen. "What do you want for breakfast? Dad'll be home soon, probably with food, but we got..." Dean pokes his head into the freezer and then the refrigerator and smiles over his shoulder at Sam, who leans sleepily against the door frame. "We got pizza." Dean waggles his brows and Sam shoots him a disgusted scowl.

"You mean heart attack on a slab of bread?" He pushes off the wall and saunters in before plopping down on a stool at the island and fitting his chin into his hand. "No, thanks, I'd rather live past the age of 35."

"Yeah, with your gross boxed salads and health-nut, all natural fruit smoothies, sounds fuckin' awesome," Dean quips, tossing the frozen pizza on the counter beside him and then pulling out a beer. John doesn't mind him drinking so long as he's home, safe from any stupid choices he might make anywhere else. "Start the oven, bitch."

"What if I don't, jerk," Sam retorts and Dean smirks.

"I'll tell dad not to get you your hippie-shit salad at the market," Dean raises his eyebrows and nods when Sam's eyes go wide and the younger man sighs but stands and turns the oven on.

"What are you so busy with that you can't do this yourself," Sam murmurs as he fiddles with the settings.

Dean waits until Sam turns to him to give an answer, the likes of which is him throwing a bag of mixed greens at Sam and hitting him smack dab in the middle of his face.

The package falls into Sam's arms once it's done molesting his nose, and Sam lets out a frustrated grunt, but seems appreciative enough.

"There's already salad, dumbass," Dean divulges, hoping Sam's still too tired to bicker about him lying.

"Yeah, I can see that," Sam gripes and tosses the bag at the island before turning back to Dean and holding out his hand.

Dean throws him a bundle of carrots and the bottle of dressing and Sam snatches a tomato from the basket against the wall as he trudges by back to the island. Dean picks up the beer and digs through the drawer closest to the fridge and pulls out the bottle opener. He snaps the cap off and throws the device back into the drawer, then closes it by leaning back against the counter.

He crosses an arm over his stomach and lets his other elbow rest on that arm, holding the beer up by his lips.

He examines the way Sam chops the carrot almost boredly, probably because he's done it a thousand times before, and Dean wonders, fleetingly, what Gabe enjoys so much about Sam.

Not that Sam isn't enjoyable. Dean's always loved hanging around his brother because he's smart and useful when someone needs a random fact or is at a loss for whatever word they're looking for, and, despite how annoying his intelligence can get, he's funny and adventurous. And he's sweet, one of those sensitive guys that most girls would die to have in their arms. Too bad he's gay.

Sam shows so little interest in girls, and so little interest in anybody at all since he's started hanging out with Gabe, and Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean saw a side of Gabe he never expected and he's just grateful that that's the kind of guy Sam fell for. God knows he deserves it.

Sam turns around and catches Dean's eyes and raises a sceptical brow.

"Something's wrong."

"What?"

"You don't stare off into space like that when everything is okay," Sam discloses and Dean rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine." A chiding, bored look from Sam. "What?! I am! Seriously," he adds when Sam's apparent disbelief deepens. "Sammy. Listen to me. I'm fine. I'm just...I think I'm gettin' a little lost in my own world right now." He pushes off the counter right as the oven beeps, alerting them that it's ready, and he shoves the pizza in, adding, "And I'm thinkin' about how nice it is that you've got Gabe."

"Wait, what?"

"Well...he's a good guy. Great guy. Good for you."

"What do you mean."

"Well...let's just say I got to see a side of him I didn't even know existed and I realised how...sensitive...he actually is," Dean takes up his beer again and turns back to Sam, soft smile tilting his lips. "And I'm proud of you Sammy. You chose right."

A blush makes itself obnoxiously prominent and blankets itself across Sam's entire face and Dean chuckles.

"Thanks," Sam mumbles and returns to his salad, squirting a generous amount of dressing into the leaves then mixing it all up with a fork.

The front door clicks open and they both look to the doorway expectantly.

"Dean, is Sam up y-oh," John smiles at a very unkempt, slightly pissed off Sam and Sam purses his lips. "Hey kiddo. Got some more stuff for...salads...or whatever the hell it is you call all that."

Dean snorts and Sam narrows his eyes pointedly.

"What?" Dean smiles, still laughing, and Sam stomps out of the room, bowl in hand. "Hey, it's funny!" He calls after the younger man and laughs at the muffled reply from halfway up the stairs - "it's really not, Dean" - then turns back to his father, amused smile and tongue between his teeth.

The smile falls into a grave line, though, when he catches John's chastising glare.

Dean tries to shrug it off by raising a fist, thumb out, and pointing at the doorway, eyebrows raised, and saying, "What's got his panties in a bunch?"

John just shakes his head and starts unpacking the mountain of plastic bags.

"Oh, come on!" John's eyes flick back over to him and Dean holds out his hands, beer tilting in his fingers. "It's kind of funny."

"What did you tease him about this time," John intones and Dean scoffs.

"Dude, nothing, he just woke up grumpy," Dean replies and goes to help with the bags. John raises his eyebrows quizzically and Dean sets his jaw. "Fine," he concedes, pulling out a nice, plastic wrapped steak. "I may have commented on him being so helplessly in love with one Gabriel Novak, but I--"

"Dean, you know how touchy he is about..." John pauses, searching for words on the ceiling, his shoulders coming up in a shrug and his fingers splaying. "About being gay, I guess."

"Well, I don't think he's 100% gay..."

"Dean," John's warning voice.

"Fine, sorry, I'll go up an' apologise."

"It's fine, just leave him alone. I'm sure he needs space to...angst and sulk, or whatever the fuck teenagers do in their bedrooms all day."

"You know," Dean starts as he shoves a bag aside and starts in on the other one, pulling out a box of Hamburger Helper. "Pretty sure you used to be a teenager too, dad."

"Well, yes, but I grew up in a different time," he pauses, pursing his lips, looking...unsure, as if he's trying to decide something.

"What," Dean says in hopes of making his father aware of the emotions on his face.

"Dean, I just..." He sighs and straightens up, scratching the back of his neck, not meeting Dean's eyes. This can't be good. "Look, I want you to know I wouldn't...be mad if you weren't straight either. I'd be surprised that I have two sons in a row that like men but...I wasn't mad at Sam and I certainly wouldn't be mad at you."

A car roars by outside and Dean stares at his father, uncomprehending, face blank.

What did he just hear?

That's the last thing he expected out of John Winchester's mouth but there it is, the words hanging in the air between them, lingering, waiting for Dean to let them in.

"I..." Dean tries and swallows, not sure about what to say next. Because how the hell do you respond to something like that? How do you even begin to acknowledge that your parent knows about something you tried your damnedest to keep hidden? He tries again, this time finding his voice, broken and soft as he whispers, "Thanks, dad."

John finally meets his gaze and nods once, and before Dean can think about what he's doing, he's got his arms wrapped around John's shoulders and John surprises him once more by hugging back.

"I'm proud of you, Dean," he says. "No matter what. Y'hear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean stares at the white of the wall behind John, eyebrows pulled down and throat straining against tears.

They let go of eachother and John smiles at him.

"You be the best damn boyfriend that Castiel boy has ever had, you got that, son?"

"Yes, sir," Dean repeats, obedient and exhilarated.

"Good..." He pauses again and stares at Dean for another moment before turning back to the groceries. "Let's get this all unpacked and then you can go figure out what's up with Sammy, because hell if I know what goes through that kid's head."

"Random facts about a how a worm reproduces and why obesity is the number one cause of death in America," Dean replies playfully and it gets a chuckle out of John.

"He's a genius. Wouldn't expect anything less."

They unpack in comfortable silence and twenty minutes later, Dean sits on the couch, pizza and second beer in hand with his dad in the reclining chair, sporting the same items, telly tuned into NASCAR.


	10. Periodic Table of Fluffements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is as genius as Sam and he has some fun with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for the main fic. Wish I could have extended it but I have so many other prompt fills. There will be timestamps, though, I promise.

Dean never ceases to amaze Cas. From his inhumanly quick recovery after finding out he's not straight and he fancies his best friend, to his bold, adventurous hands and his daring attitude about any challenge, including giving his boyfriend a handjob in the dead of night with everyone home.

He's crazy and reckless and stupid and and Cas is so, so in love with him. Because he's also sweet, understanding. Cas thinks it must be a Winchester trait because that's how Sam is too. Just more open about it.

Friday night had been the most amazing night Cas has ever experienced and he's gotten some pretty good handjobs. And in spite of Dean obviously having very little experience, or an entire lack thereof, it was so...unbelievably, irrevocably, incomparably mind blowing to have Dean's hands on him, to have the one hovering above him be Dean, finally, after nearly six years of pining from rather close up.

But it wasn't just the sex. Of course not, how could it be?

It was the way it happened. It was the way it was initiated and the words that came after it and how they were said, dripping in moonlight and warm even in the fall breeze. It was the innocent awe in Dean's eyes when Cas proved to him how much he loves him by telling Dean he wouldn't have believed anyone else. It was the meaning that those words held, so much more implied than was actually said, and the way Dean just...just _understood_. It was the way they kissed, so full of love and confirmation that 'yes, you are mine and I am yours' and how Cas could've sworn that for a short moment in time, just for a fraction of s second, the world stopped spinning. Slowed and stumbled and faltered and stopped to watch. Amazed, enlightened, affirmed.

And he could have sworn the entire earth stuttered with the revelation that 'my God, these two idiots are so fucking in love, and it's so heart-wrenchingly awe inspiring'.

And Cas wants to cry, he wants to fall to his knees at the edge of the world and bask in the gold of the loving sun and admit to every wrong he's ever committed and sob until he can't sob anymore. He wants to twirl and dance in a field of wildflowers and spread his arms and fly away to a place where he can keep Dean wrapped up in himself forever. He wants fall from the roof of a twenty story building, just to be stupidly surprised when Dean is there to catch him.

Dean is his drug and, right now, he's higher than heaven and the stars and he doesn't think he'll be able to come down any time soon. Doesn't think he would if he could.

Their love is so easy, like spreading melted butter on toast or slipping into your favourite shirt. And it's unbreakable, irreplaceable, so fucking foolish and so fucking right and no one seems to be able to get enough.

People at school started finding out Monday, neither of them know how, and Cas is almost certain it has something to do with Charlie. But the reactions are ninety-eight percent positive and those who choose to disagree seem to leave them alone enough, settling for disgruntled glances or what seem to be grossed-out scowls. Dean isn't getting shunned or isolated from the wrestling team - in fact, he's going stronger than ever - and Cas seems to be accumulating an admirable conglomeration of friends, all from different groups, from the pot-heads to the video gaming geeks, whom he was already relatively entwined in, and even gathering a surprising number of people from the group that does nothing but party and play sports and somehow still have time to pass every single one of their classes.

People seem to take a rather odd liking to 'Those Four Gay Kids', the other two being Gabe and Sam who have brought themselves to popularity as well. But it's strange how they 'awh' and 'oh' and coo and elbow their friends when Dean and Cas turn a corner and strut down the hall with their fingers laced together, all eyes on them.

It's strange because this school containing same-sex couples is really nothing new, nothing different. Hell, there are probably five other same-sex couples just in years eleven and twelve alone. But, for whatever unfathomable reason, the Winchester-Novak pairings are like some kind of prized oddity to the other students.

Cas can't complain. He may seem flustered by the attention but he enjoys the little lip-biting smiles people give them when they pass by. And it comforts him to realise just how much people have changed, just how much views have shifted and society has evolved into this welcoming door that anybody can walk through, into such an accepting cluster of humans. It's incorrigibly amazing and Cas is so in love with Dean and with the fact that people are in love with them.

Cas isn't used to having random people come up to him, people he's never even spoken to, and having them gush about how 'absolutely, positively adorable you two are together'. He's not used to it and neither is Gabe, who gets nervous and cagey whenever someone starts asking questions, usually about what will happen when Gabe leaves for college because he's in year twelve and Sam is in year ten and 'how are you gonna make it work because we absolutely would not be able to stand it if you two broke up' and Sam generally just smiles and kindly excuses them and drags Gabe away because it's obviously a little more than uncomfortable.

But Dean is more used to the attention, more used to having so many people know who he is because he's the star, the heart and soul, of the wrestling team, what their school is most known for and has actually gotten several medals for. Dean's more understanding when strangers bombard him with questions and gush about how sweet they seem together and how Dean is the last person they expected to be not-straight.

Cas doesn't know about Sam, but maybe Sam is just more carefree and able to brush off the constant assailment of imperious comments. Which is good. Good for him and for Gabe because God only knows Gabe needs someone who can pull him out of a messy situation.

Either way, right now, Dean sits across the lunch table from Cas and their hands are twined together over the the table for the entire world to see. Charlie sits to Dean's right and basically ignores everybody else in favour of delving into a rather passionate discussion about where bubblegum originated with Dorothy. To Dean's left sits Sam, tapping away at his phone, probably talking to Gabe because the older boy has study hall right now and he's able to sneak in the texts. Across from Sam and to Cas' right sits Jessica Moore, a pretty blonde thing that even Cas becomes flustered around and who's much too beautiful to want to pursue a career in Kindergarten teaching. She doesn't usually say much, but when she does speak, it's with a lilting tone, always so calm and careful and she says the most profound things, and sometimes, when she speaks, Cas can't tear his eyes away from her. She's a treasure and whoever claims her will be one of the luckiest people on earth.

To Cas' left sits one Kevin Tran, his nose shoved in a cryptic-looking, tattered old book with strange symbols written inside. It's one of the many books he's constantly reading and for the life of him, Cas can't even begin to understand what all the odd symbols and signs mean.

And then again, there's Cas and Dean, wrapped up in their very own little shining bubble of a world, their hands attached atop the table and their eyes never leaving eachother as they speak softly about small things that shouldn't matter but that Dean somehow makes matter.

"Seriously, quiz me," Dean challenges and Cas narrows his eyes.

"Fine," he clears his throat and straightens the collar of his sweater before speaking again. "The atomic mass of germanium."

"72..." Dean pauses tilts his head, bites his lip, stalls, looks like he's trying to think. "Point 61?"

Cas' eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he laughs, high and surprised.

"Okay, I was not expecting you to know that...well, let's see how good you really are," Cas jeers playfully. 

"Bring it on, you fucking nerd," Dean retorts and Cas places a kiss on Dean's pinky knuckle, so gentle in contrast to the tone of their conversation.

"For every one you get right, you get a kiss," Cas says. "On the hand," he adds, grinning, when Dean's eyes widen.

Dean huffs but plays along.

"Alright. Atomic number of Fluorine."

"9."

Cas kisses his ring finger knuckle and smiles.

"Atomic weight of Uranium."

"238."

His middle knuckle.

"Melting point of Carbon."

"3,500..." He pauses again, seeming unsure of the smaller numbers. "3,550 degrees Celsius."

Lips brushing Dean's index finger.

"Five more."

"Shouldn't it be four?" Dean furrows his brows and Cas grins mischievously. 

"Just let it happen. Don't worry about," Cas says and Dean gives him a sceptical raise of his brows but Cas just shakes his head. "Come on. Element category of Potassium."

"Alkali?"

A kiss on his other index knuckle.

"Atomic radius of Urianium."

"Didn't we already do Urianium?"

"Just answer it."

"156."

A kiss to Dean's other middle knuckle.

"Crystal structure of Arsenic."

"Jeez, Cas, way to make this hard. Um..." Dean closes his eyes for a second and doesn't open them when he speaks again. "Rhom...r-rhombo...ah, fuck. Rhombohedral?"

Cas' lips find his ring finger and Dean smiles faintly before opening his eyes again to find Cas peeking up at him through enigmatic brown lashes.

"This should be easier. Atomic number of Sulfur."

"16."

A kiss to Dean's pinky knuckle.

Cas hears Sam snickering and he looks up at Dean's younger brother, expecting only to find him staring down at some dirty joke that Gabe made but instead finding his eyes on them.

"What the fuck you laughin' about, you fucking faerie," Dean tries to insult him but they both know it won't sting.

"Check the periodic table and match what he just said to their atomic names--"

"Don't tell him!" Cas interjects, voice wild with uncontrollable laughter. He smiles secretively at Sam and then turns back to Dean, an idea forming like a light bulb above his head.

"Alright, what am I missing here," Dean narrows his eyes at Cas and the younger man seals his lips shut, still caught in a smile. Cas can feel Jessica shaking with silent laughter beside him and Kevin has set his book down and is not meeting anyone's eyes as he suppresses a grin. Even Charlie and Dorothy have turned to the conversation and Dorothy narrows her eyes before they widen in realisation and she starts laughing so hard she snorts and Charlie laughs even harder because of that. And now everyone is laughing and everyone gets it.

Everyone but Dean.

"If you figure it out, I'll kiss you," Cas says, and this shuts Sam up, making his eyes go big and round as he stares at Cas in incredulity. Jessica only laughs harder, and even her laughter is breathtaking. Kevin just slams his book shut and drops his forehead to the table. Charlie starts flailing her hands and grabbing at Dean.

"Oh my god, that is so cute, please be smart Dean," she says quickly and he swats at her blithely. "Please?"

"Fine, dear God, can you _be_  any more excited?" He asks and immediately regrets it.

"Of course I can," she replies and before she can start screaming or whatever the hell she was thinking of doing, Dean pulls out his phone and looks up the periodic table.

"Okay so...Fluorine. Uranium. Carbon. Potassium. Urianium. Arsenic. Sulf...no way." He looks up at Cas with an offended grin. "No fucking way, you dick! How dare you!"

Jessica finally breaks and wraps an arm around her stomach, nearly falling off her chair in a fit of earth-shattering laughter, and Sam throws his head back, texts going unread now that he's wrapped up in this. Kevin's shoulders tremble and Charlie and Dorothy hold onto eachother for dear life, Charlie wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

Cas grins and leans over the table, hands coming up to Dean's cheeks, and he holds his boyfriend's face there as he captures his lips in a rather steamy kiss. There are cheers and whoops from the tables around them and someone with a British accent shouts 'fuck yeah' and all eyes are on two of 'The Four Gay Kids'.

When Cas pulls back, only centimetres from Dean, he grins wider and Dean's middle finger comes up between their faces and he laughs, baffled and in love.

Things simmer down after a minute, people returning to their lunches, Kevin shoving his book into his backpack and leaving the room without a word, Charlie and Dorothy sinking back into some kind of talk about the Wizard of Oz and the significance of the Tin Man, Jessica re-burying her mind in the depths of AP Calc, Sam's thumbs swirling around on the screen, and Dean and Cas sitting in sweet, blissful silence, bodies still connected by their hands.

Dean stares at him for a moment and then takes in a sharp breath.

"I can't believe you spelled 'Fuck u, ass' with elements from the fucking periodic table. You're such a stupid, smart, brilliant nerd," Dean says and Cas laughs softly, a breath out through his nose.

"You were getting annoying and I know the periodic table of elements well enough to construct something that maniacal," Cas replies in a serene whisper, watching Dean rest his head on his arm and bring his other hand up to trace nonsense on the table.

"I wouldn't call that maniacal, just you being a stupid brainiac."

"You really think I'm that smart, huh?"

Dean lifts his head and his gaze his soft, adoration-soaked and wistful. 

"I think you're just as much a genius as Sam."

Sam pays no attention and Cas thinks maybe he didn't even hear.

"Well...that's a hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact, Cas. You're so fucking smart and I love every single thought that goes through that big, beautiful mind of yours."

Castiel can't stop his lips from parting. It's no surprise, Cas has always known that Dean thinks he's knowledgable, and he's said it out loud before. Many times.

But never in this way, never in this context or this setting, never under these circumstances, never in the way he says it here and now, and Cas just can't understand how Dean thinks so highly of him but God, is it wonderful to know each and every way that Dean loves him.

Cas rests his chin on his own arm and stares up at Dean, who lowers his head back onto his arm and reaches out for Cas' other hand. Cas slides his free appendage across the table and Dean uses his unoccupied fingers to trace the lines of Cas' palm.

Someone's gum cracks, the soft scrape of pencil on paper, a girl giggling a few tables over, the squeak-slip of a teacher's shoes as they walk briskly by, the gentle bristle of their breathing and Dean's finger twirling and dancing in Cas's hand.

And God, everything is so perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is so short I'm sorry


End file.
